The Silent Adoration of Amelia Bones
by FlashFiction
Summary: At the funeral of Amelia Susan Bones, four men reflect on how they could not help but fall in love with her.
1. A Death in the Family

**Author's Note: **This came about after I realized how many characters in my head-canon are in love with Amelia Bones. There are going to be some more chapters, which look at the four men mentioned below at her funeral and their different relationships with her.

**A Death in the Family**

A plaque, gold and shiny, was fixed onto a wall of fallen heroes soon after it happened; "In Memory of Amelia Susan Bones, 1938-1996, Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A life lived in service and duty" were the words etched into its surface. It sat in the middle of the wall, filling the space so well that it seemed to many that it had always belonged there, as if some omnipresent force had predicted that one day Madam Bones would pay the ultimate price for her country.

Everyone had heard about it of course, her brutal murder marking the triumphant return of a regime that brought the countries to its knees less than two decades ago. The door to her office had been swamped with a wave of flowers and then avoided, as if some kind of curse had permeated through it and people were worried that they too would be forsaken. Some, however, did not seem to believe in the curse; they would go to the door, seeking it out, and then freeze before it, captured by the ghost of things past. It was a quality that the living Amelia Bones had been known for, though she blatantly denied it; something about her smile, her mind, her voice, her eyes, her soul pulled people into her orbit and they very rarely left.

One was Rufus Scrimgeour. He was walking somewhere else, his arms full with papers and memos. Whether he had intended to pass by the office of his late superior was unclear, but, like walking into a wall, he abruptly stopped moving as it came into view. Rufus had served Amelia Bones for a very long time and there was a running (and secret) joke amongst the Aurors about the extent of their leader's devotion to his own. As he stood staring at the flowers, for a brief moment, had one been looking at the precise time, something akin to heartbreak could be seen in his yellowy eyes. But then it was gone and so was he, the propriety and sense of duty that had defined his relationship with Amelia driving him forward.

Kingsley Shacklebolt came actively seeking to stop and reflect, though it had taken him a few days to prepare himself to do so. He was one of the Aurors who had responded to the situation, when the alarm was raised after Amelia had failed to come into work. The sight of her limp and bloody body, crumpled against the wall, was one he wasn't sure he would ever get out from behind his eyes. It was no secret that Kingsley had worshipped Amelia; she had been his mentor when he first arrived at the Ministry and there was talk of her personally selecting him to one day be her successor. He was certainly always ready to be her loudest advocate, the woman unable to do wrong in his eyes. Standing before the mass of flowers, Kingsley could be seen to shake, the large man suddenly seeming so small as he bowed his head in respect.

Yaxley was hesitant to visit the shrine that had sprung up, fearing any association with the brutal act that had killed his colleague. He hovered nearly a whole corridor away, his dark eyes scanning the scene, watching from a distance as the flowers were laid down. They had not been close, Amelia and he, not in any way that could've been quantitatively summed up with a label. But there was a connection, something that did not go unnoticed; a comment here and there, a look shared between them. There was a general consensus that Yaxley and Amelia existed on a higher plain, their intelligence and mystique setting them apart from ordinary men. Yaxley undoubtedly found her attractive, the slight infatuation he felt for her something he admitted freely when asked. Perhaps, even after she was gone, that connection remained, for something was definitely haunting Yaxley, his mind somewhere other than the corridor.

If anyone had called the journey that John Dawlish made to Amelia's office a pilgrimage, he would've told them (in less than polite terms) to take their opinions elsewhere, but that was what it was. Few people remembered, and those that did would not dare gossip, the brief affair that the pair had had when John was still a junior Auror and Amelia was only head of the office. They had been thrown together at various points, each one resulting in a build up of tension that was at some point inevitably going to explode. It had been short lived, a few months at the most, but a certain amount of passion could still be felt between them, although these days it mostly resulted in their arguing. Well, it had. As John shoved his hands into his pockets and stormed away, it was impossible to tell exactly who he was angry at.


	2. Devotion

**Devotion - Rufus Scrimgeour **

The funeral was on a Wednesday and, though that date was inconvenient, it had never presented itself as any kind of problem to Rufus Scrimgeour; if the event had been scheduled during his last moments to live, the soon to be Minster for Magic still would've been there. He stood at the side of the crowd, wanting to be as close as was possible, but respecting the right of family to take precedence. The wind ran across the grass and over his feet, creating ripples in the landscape as if the funeral party were some great ship anchored in the middle of a green sea. Rufus believed that, had she believed in such things, Amelia would be very happy here. There was an inescapable sense of calm, something that the world had not afforded the late Madam Bones on a regular basis. It made him sad to think of it; the last few years of her life had been constantly overarched by the shadow of some kind of chaos. If anyone deserved peace for all eternity, it was her.

It was hard for him to work out exactly how he felt; he had to be strong, he knew that, strong for her. The Ministry needed a moral voice more than ever now and, as Amelia could no longer be that, someone would have to take her place. Rufus didn't know if it could be him. No one could replace Amelia. She had been a singular personality, something that would never be seen again. But her voice had to remain, it was the one thing he was certain of. Amelia had relied on him a lot through out her career and Rufus was not about to let her down now. They had shared something special and he intended to honour that.

Rufus thought back to last summer, a time when things had been just as uncertain but somehow less sinister. He had been delivering some paperwork and had found her in a bit of state. She was putting on her plum coloured Wizengamot robes, swearing at the air.

"Rufus," Amelia cried, spinning around as he came in, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were here."

"I just have some case files that need signing off," Rufus said hesitantly, indicating the stack in his hands, "I can come back later, if now's not convenient."

"Not really," Amelia said distractedly.

The witch sat back down at her desk and began to rummage through a a draw.

"I have the Harry Potter hearing this morning," she said, her hands still flicking through things.

Rufus nodded; he had completely forgotten. Looking around her office, however, it didn't appear as if anything was happening. In fact, her office didn't look as if anything other than a large explosion of papers had happened. Amelia caught him looking around and raised an eyebrow.

"I thought," the wizard said, somewhat sheepishly, "that your office would've been in a better state if you were expecting visitors."

Amelia made a low noise that sounded almost like a growl.

"You must've been the only one who hasn't heard," she said aggressively, "The hearing has been moved, at the request of the Minister, to one of the old court rooms. It's a full jury. That's why I'm dressed up in this monkey suit."

Rufus was surprised. The case seemed fairly straight forward when Amelia had showed it to him the other day. When he thought about it, though, given the increasing paranoia of certain politicians regarding certain events, it wasn't that surprising.

Amelia was still fishing around in the draws.

"What have you lost?" Rufus asked, placing the papers down on the desk and going around to help her search.

"I am looking for," Amelia said, reaching to the back, "this."

She pulled out a monocle.

"I'm supposed to be trying it out," she explained, "to see if it improves my eyesight. The healer seemed to think this was the best option. I look ridiculous."

She put it on, to illustrate her point, and Rufus tried not to laugh.

"It's not that bad," he assured her.

Amelia tilted her head, disbelievingly.

"I look like the Monopoly Man," she said flatly.

"Who?" Rufus asked.

But Amelia had moved on.

"It's a bloody imposition," she complained, "The trial is going to drag on - Dolores will see to that - and I have two more meetings after this. I'm probably going to have to cancel, which will put me further behind in my work."

"I can go to those meetings if you like," Rufus offered, "I have a free hour or so and you won't have to worry."

Amelia leaned back in her chair, looking up at her colleague with a strange sort of smile.

"I'm not asking for that, darling," she said, reaching out her hand to touch his arm, "You know me; I like to complain when someone will listen."

Rufus did know her and she wasn't one to complain without cause. And he wanted to help her; with a slight sinking in his stomach, he realized that he always wanted to help her.

"It's not a problem," he said quietly, his voice not betraying any of the emotion he felt, "In fact, I'd say it's part of my job."

"And you're so good at it," Amelia said softly, once again smiling.

He watched her consider his offer, the corners of her eyes going slightly crinkly as the always did when she was in thought.

"Thank you," she said finally, her voice sincere.

Rufus bowed his head slightly.

"It's really not a problem."

At that moment, a secretary walked into the office.

"Madam Bones," the woman said, "you're wanted downstairs."

Amelia nodded, but, as the woman left, made a face at Rufus. He gave a wry grin. Amelia got up out of her chair and went to leave. She stopped in front of Rufus, her eyes glancing over his face. Then she reached up a hand and rested it on his cheek. Rufus felt an involuntary shiver go through his body.

"Dear Rufus," she said fondly, her voice soft, "What would I do without you?"

"I'm sure you would manage," Rufus said dutifully, "Actually, I'm sure you would succeed beautifully."

Amelia smiled, in the broad and open way that had come to be a source of light in Rufus' day. Then she walked off.

It was that smile that Rufus wanted to hold on to, that honest and genuine sign of happiness. He didn't want to think about the way she had died or how stressed she had been towards the end. He wanted to remember that warm and bright glow that had surrounded her, the aura that had drawn him in. Rufus stared out at the coffin, an unfamiliar burning sensation behind his eyes. Amelia Bones was his reason and now she was gone.


End file.
